Love You To Death
by Pandora's Teapot
Summary: The mad, violent love between the Joker and Harley Quinn reaches new heights when they hold Batman captive at last. Please note: it is my policy to read stories from people who review, so please review!


**Love You To Death…**

**By Pandora Skye**

The fight with Batman had been brief, but brutal. Just the way they liked it. Like a fool he had wandered into the Joker's trap and found himself locked away forever in his underground tomb. Stupid Bat, Harley thought, remembering the wicked glint in the eyes of her man as the steel door slammed shut on his enemy. The Joker had danced about, clapping his hands and roaring with laughter at the capture of Batman, and Harley knew that tonight he would be kinder to her. Indeed, he already made his way towards her. She clapped her hands with him and skipped in small circles so that the bells on her jester's hat jingled. "Bravo! Bravo, Mister J!" she cheered, "encore!" The Joker clasped his white gloved hands about her waist and lifted her tiny body effortlessly, spinning her around in hysterical peels of gleeful laughter. Of course, she laughed with him, delighted and savouring his embrace. "We did it Harl, we caught that wretched Bat and his bird boy!" he boasted, setting her down and taking her by the hand, "indeed my dear Harley, there shall be an encore yet!" The Joker bowed low in his melodramatic way and she giggled softly. "Why Mister J, I can hardly wait..."

Now she lay curled up in the darkness of her vault, the private room he had personally stolen for her, listening to the cackles and screams from above. Harley ran her fingers down her bare thigh, it still hurt from last time even though the wound had healed, leaving only a delicious scar to taint her flesh. Surely this time he would not be so cruel, not in his rapture while his heart laughed out loud, not while he had Batman for his prisoner. Silence fell, but only for a moment. She listened to each light tap of his footfalls grow louder, drawing ever closer to her door. "Prepare the boy. And the Bat!" she heard him say to the guard, "and don't come back. I don't want to be disturbed." She heard the guard leave promptly and the soft scratch and flare of a matchstick heralding the rich odour of his cigar. She breathed it in, he always reeked of it. Click, click, click, he knew the combination well. Harley quivered slightly when he turned the lock wheel slowly, metal grinding smoothly against metal. There was no sound as the door swung open, only the piercing stream of light. It was broken suddenly by his shadow as he entered the room, then disappeared quickly with the loud slam of the heavy vault door.

The Joker chuckled softly to himself as he puffed on the cigar and walked slow circles around her bed. "Now, now Harley, I know you're awake," he said, dropping the smouldering stub of the cigar to the floor and crushing it with his shiny shoe, "I've got something I'm just _dying_ to show you!" With that, he erupted into hysterics before flopping himself down behind her. Harley felt his hands grasp her shoulders. "Imagine the headlines: Joker kills the Batman! Ha ha! Another victory for the Clown Prince Of Crime!" he whispered into her ear, sending shocks of electricity racing up her spine. He chuckled again. "Even though I can't see your face, I saw that smile Harley," he informed her. She did not respond, just relished his closeness. But the Joker grew impatient, his fingers dug into her shoulders and he shook her fiercely. "Harley! I demand that you wake right now! This is no time for a nap, we should be celebrating!" he hissed. Relenting, she turned slightly to press a soft kiss against his pallid cheek. "Here, here, Mister J!" she chimed in her sweetest voice, "whatever you say!"

For a moment, Harley thought she saw something tender in his expression, something beyond the monstrous smile. For a moment she thought she saw love. But almost immediately he grasped her arm and twisted it cruelly behind her back, violently forcing her face down against the pillows. "Harley, Harley, you're the only one I trust," he crooned, patting her hair impassively, "I think you'd die for me if I asked you to." She smiled, eyes closed and humming softly, "anything, Mister J, anything," she whispered gently. The warmth of his breath tickled the back of her neck as his free hand slid around her waist, brushing over her hip and resting on the scarred thigh. "Anything, Harley?" he asked, alluding to last time. He felt her flinch and laughed. "Each time I hurt you, you become more like me," he said, running his fingers back and forth slowly over the wound, "if anyone ever hurt you I'd kill him. Only I get to make you scream, Harley." The Joker nestled his cheek against her ear and squeezed the flesh of her thigh gently. Harley sighed, he would not hurt her tonight.

His hand travelled back up to her waist, the grip on her arm never wavering. Though her spare hand was trapped beneath her own weight, she could just reach the purple fabric of his jacket, clutching it lovingly between her fingers. "Oh Harley, your loyalty never ceases to surprise me," he whispered, at last letting go of her arm to take hold of the struggling little hand, "I have a gift for you, my dear." With that, the Joker rolled onto his back and sat up, pulling out his gun and a tiny communication device from the holster inside his jacket. "Begin, and make sure the Bat is watching," he ordered into the device before patting the bed and gesturing for Harley to sit in his lap. She did so, welcoming his tight embrace, even if he did still hold his gun. She glanced at the dresser beside the bed. Good. Her gun was right where she had left it, he hadn't stolen it this time. She'd shot him before to save her own life when his temper or his passion became too deadly. But now he seemed to be in high spirits and she knew he would want her soon.

The Joker kissed her neck roughly, squeezing her little body and holding her close to himself. "Harley, for you I have arranged a live show!" he giggled against her ear, pleased by her laughter as his lips tickled her skin, "we're going to pluck Robin's feathers one by one!" They laughed together as the screen on the wall suddenly displayed Batman's young sidekick shackled and gagged in his enclosure. The Joker composed himself. "But Harley, you know the best part?" he asked her, and she shook her head gently. "The best part is that Batman will be watching the show too! Ha ha! And there's nothing he can do about it!" Harley clapped her hands happily as The Joker roared with laughter, his grip on her loosening slightly. "You are the Devil himself, Mister J," she said admiringly, "let the show begin!" He let his hand slide around her throat then and roughly pulled her head back against his shoulder. "The Devil? Perhaps. But Harley, most importantly, I am the Joker," he reminded her fiercely. She swallowed, trembling, and nodded her head quickly. "Yes Mister J, you are the Joker," she agreed.

He tilted her head with his thumb and kissed her, licking her lips. Her body relaxed and twisted a tad to embrace him, which he allowed with the loosening of his choking grip. There was something about the way Harley's fingers fussed over his polka dot tie that always thrilled him. "Brat," he whispered, "why didn't you just leave me at Arkham where you found me? You've doomed us both with your affections!" He let his hand fall from her throat to caress the breast hidden beneath her flimsy harlequin pyjamas. Harley cautiously raised her hand to touch his smile, a dangerous course of action. Last time she tried he had bitten her. But he only turned his face away. "C'mon Mister J," Harley pleaded, "I won't hurt you." He glanced at her warily, rather impressed by her guts as her fingers drew ever closer. It had been a savage bite, he could see the scar on her knuckles. Her fingers brushed his cheek softly, moving slowly to trace the bold lines of his trademark smile cruelly etched into the skin. Harley gasped when he suddenly took her fingers into his mouth, but giggled when he only sucked on them.

The Joker's hand returned to clasp Harley's throat, the other about her waist, as she lay against him. The resonate chime of a bell signalled that the Joker's henchmen were ready to begin. Harley rested her hands on the Jokers knees, eagerly awaiting the show. An hour ticked by, consumed by diabolic hysterics as Robin was viciously tortured for their amusement. On a separate screen, they watched Batman beat against the impenetrable walls of his prison as he was forced to watch his young partner suffer. It was all too much for the Joker and Harley Quinn, their maniacal amusement quickly becoming violent passion. He flipped her onto her back and kissed her roughly, but Harley pushed him off her. "Let Batman watch Mister J," she grinned wickedly, "so he knows he lost everything this time." The Joker's eyes widened with glee and he cupped Harley's face between his hands. "You clever little jester! I just love the way your mind works!" he laughed, and pressed a button on the wall to activate the surveillance cameras in Harley's vault. Yes, he thought, that would be the icing on the cake! Batman had so desperately wanted to believe that Dr Harleen Quinzel could somehow be rescued and rehabilitated from her madness. Oh how hilarious it would be for him to see that she would belong to he, the Joker, forever!

Taking one more look at the bloody and mutilated Robin, the Joker laughed again and frantically tore at Harley's clothes. She carefully tugged at his tie, flinging it in the air when she had finally loosened it. The Joker laughed at this, excited by her playful method of undressing him. And when they were both naked, he stared into the camera, knowing that Batman saw, and smiled his menacing smile before fervently terrorizing Harley Quinn with his passion, she laughing all the while. "Why, Mister J! You're missing the show!" Harley exclaimed hours later when he had collapsed over her exhausted, "besides, it's my turn." Swiftly, she rolled the Joker off her and crawled over him slowly. "Sometimes, Harley, I think that you may be crueller than me," he laughed, "don't you think Batman has had enough of watching us fuck to Robin's torture?" Harley kissed him in that deep, female way that seems to last forever, and the Joker could not help but take hold of her nice, round hips. "You don't really believe that now, do you Mister J?" she asked in her sweet, malicious voice. He grinned and shook his head. "No Harley, no I do not believe that at all!"

In his cell, Batman was in anguish. His fists were bruised and torn from beating at the steel door, but his attempts at escape were futile. Robin had been mutilated beyond recognition by the Joker's henchmen and he had been helpless to stop it. This time he had lost, surely what the Joker had in store for him was far worse, but Batman didn't care. All he thought of was poor Robin. But to make matters worse, he had been forced to watch his enemy consummate his hold on Dr Quinzel, though he was sure it had been done countless times before. Batman knew for certain that he could never save Harleen from the Joker now, she would forever be Harley Quinn and suffer the abuse of his love until the day the Joker finally killed her. Tears welled in his eyes as he thought of this and looked up at that screen once more. The brilliant young psychiatrist demonstrated her strength to her boss with nothing but devotion in her eyes. Harleen was a beautiful young woman, despite the various scars that had been inflicted by battle with the Dark Knight, Robin, and Batgirl, but especially the cruel marks of the Joker's love. As Batman watched Harley adeptly make love to his psychopathic archenemy while he howled with laughter at the torture of Robin, he knew she was aware that he watched them. Indeed, Harley looked into the camera lens just to wink at Batman. Insanity had consumed her.

It was not often that the Joker stayed with her the entire night, for the lure of some grand robbery or Batman related mischief usually called to him relentlessly. But tonight he seemed strangely at ease, content enough with the evening's achievements to retire in Harley's embrace for the night. He curled into a childlike position, his head against her breast and arms clutching her body greedily. He slept with a smile on his face, something that always made Harley love him more. She ran her fingers through the green curls of his hair and noticed the thin stubble that had appeared around his chin. Tomorrow he would ask her to shave him, and she would consent, since she was the only person he trusted with a razor blade. The Joker had been good to her tonight, he had not hurt her at all and she was grateful. But at the same time, Harley Quinn eagerly awaited tomorrow night, when he would surely come to her armed with a blade or scalpel to further mutilate her with. His violence only made her want him more.

Gently, she kissed his forehead and settled against him to sleep. Perhaps tomorrow she would shoot him again...he seemed to like that. As Harley drifted to sleep, she yawned and whispered quietly, "goodnight Mister J."

*** A short story by Pandora Skye, as adapted from the characters of the DC Comics classic, Batman. These characters are not original and have been borrowed for the purpose of paying tribute to the epic (and twisted) love of The Joker and Harley Quinn. Pandora Skye whole heartedly supports all Arkham Asylum inmates in the crusade for the total demise of Batman, even if he is the coolest superhero ever. On that note, no hero really earns notability without the presence of truly superior villains, of which The Joker is most certainly the Clown Prince. X PS.**


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